Let me start by saying that I am drunk and I am planning on getting even drunker as I write this. I just needed to ramble and talk to someone but since no one is here I am gonna talk to the computer. There is not much of a conversation. Its pretty one sided.
I am so freaking out about the naming ceremony. I have to learn a new language and speak it in front of people. My nerves are on the brink. But I have learned some good words and have a feeling of deep seeded happiness. It’s a weird thing to be learning a new language at this stage in my life. It’s kinda feeling of freedom. I have my own way of speaking. I can speak the words well but don’t ask me to write them. (Oh wait the Potawatomi didn’t write down words.) I can say bacon, cat, dog, day, Butterfly, no longer exists. Ok, I know what my injun name is, I got told early because I have to speak it, it translates to Dancing Butterfly. My full tribal name is Dancing Butterfly on a Spring Day. How fucking cool is that? That names completely fits me. And I will get my spirit horse tat. YIPPPPPEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!
Oh no, I burnt my neked man lighter. I think I might have burnt his wiener. Good deal, I didn’t burn his weenie off. I can still stroke the star and see his manhood. Listening to John McCutcheon makes me feel all happy inside like watching Little House.
I feel like a geek pushing my bangs across my forehead, and adjusting my glasses.
I love this song!!! Sorry I am going to Rasputina land. I heard this song live. Secret Message is such a great song. : CLAPPING HANDS LIKE A RETARDED KID: I love that song.
What will be pulled up next on my ipod? Jason got me this great cd (ok, its super girlie and anyone with testes wouldn’t really like it.) It’s Cyndi Lauper’s The Body Acoustic. Its all her greatest hits all done up MTV Unpluggedish. I love the versions of True Colors, She Bop and Time After Time. Hahahhahahhaha! That is because those are all the songs she plays on the dulcimer. I guess there will be a musical comment on every song that my Ipod shoots up.
The Raconteurs are very good. I like all that White Stripes crap but The Raconteurs. That is a good sound. Ok I am lame because I am doing this song/music review of all my music. But I am enjoying myself, so I don’t care what anyone thinks. I have an assload of music on my Ipod and it’s playing all my favorite songs.
Sorry I had to have a dance break, not a break dance. Though if Toni Basil’s song Mickey comes on, that is a different story. Thimble Island is a good song to dance to. It kinda makes me want to do the hula.
YUK! The worst CCR song just came on…. Send Me In Coach… Puke, puke, barf, and barf. Damn that made me mad. It made me remember how the Ravens lost to the Colts. And the fucking Colts won the fucking Super Toilet bowl. I just don’t understand how a team that was 13-3 could lose to the Colts? I will stop there.
On a less angry note… I can’t believe that John Mellencamp was on the Daily Show and I didn’t watch/know about it. When I was about 11 I used to think that Mellencamp was dreamy. HEHEHHEE! I said dreamy. I haven’t said that word since I was about 14.
I so need to find me a sugar daddy. I need a place to be my studio. So I can be an Artiste. Sometimes I feel like I could be drawn into myself. I could be like Syd Barret but with out all the LSD. Sometimes I wonder if I am mentally stable. But quickly I figure out that I just need an outlet to let everything out. Sometimes its punching, sometimes it’s biting, sometimes its just drawing silly pictures.
Fuck it’s this song. I have so many mixed emotions about it. It’s all a mix of my dad back in my little kid days and drama from later in life. “Operator could you help me place this call?” Ok, I like some gay ass music like James Taylor, Jim croche, Madonna, and one Barry Manalow song.
I hate that it’s been so cold. I can’t get out and roller-skate or go and run or walk. When its 23 degrees and the wind chill is 9, you don’t want to go outside.
Is it wrong that I make people who request for a friend take a questioner? Oh bother, it doesn’t matter. I have been making people tonight do that and there is some who actually replied and basically begged to be my myspace friend. I have an itching feelin that this person may end up being the subject of a blog. Only if I could crush more inferior beings. BWHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH.
I am sitting here and listening to the sister song by The Bowman’s. I miss my sissy. I have never been gone away from her this long before. She is my true real best friend. We have always been together. I can stab her in the knee with a pair of scissors and she can shoot my eye out with a rubber band and a Nintendo controller but … Oh crap mushy time. I miss my sissy, I really miss my daddy. I guess I am just being here being stupid and mushy because I am here all alone. If it weren’t for the brats, I don’t think I would come home. I am just so happy that Jason will be home tomorrow. I feel so isolated and lonely. According to Dr. Phil… HAHAHAHAH had ya going. Like I would watch that crap. That is about as good as me saying I watch Oprah or Judge Judy.
I haven’t mentioned my new job yet, have I? Its pretty much the same thing that I was doing but with different faces and a lot less work. Don’t get me wrong; I am learning their way of doing things. I’m being a team player. I am just longing for a job where I am use my artiste skills to be something great. Maybe I just want to be something great. Right now I don’t feel like I will be anything. I know that I can be something better. I know that I can be a special person and not just in the short bus kinda way. I want Oprah and Martha Stewart to sing “Wind Beneath My Wings” to me. Oh yes, lustful thoughts. Oh to see Martha down oh her knees and Oprah begging for forgiveness…. Sorry happy fantasy was emerging in my brain.
“ He smelled like propane and butterscotch, kept his eyes on me because he liked to watch me…”
I almost want to move back to the Crapland so I can be near my sissy. I don’t know why I need this need for home. I feel like Scarlet, I need the red dirt of Terra. The dirt makes me strong. I need to see the familiar faces of love again. I want a hug from my parents and I want a hug from my sister. I want a hug from my best friends. I need that red dirt. As god as my witness, I will never go without OKC again. Its in my blood and in my nature, I am Oklahoma trash.
I was from something great.
Then I was forced to be tame,
a shy foal unable to show her glory.
Always suppressed,
never allowed to be what she could be.
Dreams that could never be float around her head. ….
Like a sprite that has taken flight,
looking for a camp light in the winter’s night.
A fire.
Afire to warm herself by.
Looking for something that will never be.
Lost fairy out in a winter’s night.
When you are found again,
please have the look of peace that you have longed to find.
Late night poetry, like a beatnik verse, long and forgotten, a thing of the past, the only sound that is heard is the scratch of the needle on the record, the pop and scratch of the needle gliding over nothing, wasted sound on a human ear, memories that are stored on a sound, long forgotten tracks, memories held at bay.
Nothing else says love like the sounds of pleasure. Sounds that are emitting from nowhere. Rustling and moaning. Sounds of pleasure sounds of pain, intermingles like cry of a long lost tribe.
Hands caress, lips make movements towards the other pair. Lovingly, fingers reach and search, looking and scratching, touch and tease. Move up the leg until the torso is touched
and hands caress the spine. The nape of the neck is warm to the feeling of love, Fingers intertwined into hair, pull the head back and lips interlock. Breathing that was a second ago two but now becoming one.
The heat and the moisture move along the line the jaw move along the side of the face and rest on the ear. Gentle warmth, tiny strokes of the tongue, until the teeth meet the silver ring in her ear.
Such pleasure can be gained, with the tickle of breath, the warmth of the mouth. Slowly the warmth moves from the ear and slowly moves to the neck. Soft kisses, an arch of a neck, your mouth and teeth edge their ways along down the graceful arch that was presented to you. Hands move up ward, lift the shirt just slightly. The darkened mounds with the flavorful tasting. Fingers swirl and wind. Maneuver and twist. The ripeness of the fruit. Sweetness and honey spill down the legs of the angel that never was…
“Aint that America? For you and me. Aint that America? Something to see. Home of the free. Aint that America? Little pink houses for you and me! Winner and there’s losers, Aint no big deal. Because the simple man pays the bills that count. Aint that America? Little pink houses for you and me!” Damn, I don’t have Jack and Diane. I was waxing poetic but now I have calmed down…
Assateague me. I haven’t been to my happy horse beach in 2 years. I only went to the beach once last year and that was when my uncle tried to molest me again. Damn that stupid fucktard. Why does he always have to ruin my beach trips?
YIPPPEEE! More Mellencamp. His song “Small Town” really calls to me. I guess a lot of Mellencamp songs do. It’s kinda like knowing the country but really knowing the city life. I have added on to my pages when I was trying to go to bed.
But bed isn’t an option now. I am tired but energized right now. I feel like I have taken Jazzercise classes. Tired but energized.
I am like a record, I skip at times.
I can’t wait for this summer so I can see McCutcheon at The Courthouse lawn. If I can get the weekend off, I want to go to the JescoFest in WVA.
I wish there was someone here to hold me. I wish there was someone here to comfort me. I am lonely. I want someone to talk to.
Damn Roberta Flack. Killing me softly. “Strumming my pain with his fingers, Singing my life with his words, Killing me softly with his song.
“I am cold waiting for the day to come…. There are some mornings when the sky looks like a road. There are some dragons who are meant to have and hold.” “Assateague me, deep in sea foam so…”
I had to change the music. “She rings like a bell through the night and wouldn’t you love to love her? She rules her life like a bird in flight and who will be her lover? All your life you’ve never seen woman taken by the wind. Would you stay if she promised you heaven? Will you ever win?” He he. I have been type singing all night. Hot damn, Magic Man is on. I am having me a 70’s fest and I wanna dance. The Rasputina version of Barracuda is so much better. “My love is the evenin' breeze touchin' your skin
the gentle, sweet singin' of leaves in the wind. The whisper that calls after you in the night. And kisses your ear in the early moonlight. And you don't need to wonder, you're doing fine. My love, the pleasure's mine, let me go crazy on you.” Damn I am so fucking drunk.
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